


Secondhand Heart

by HappyLeech



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Mistaken For Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyLeech/pseuds/HappyLeech
Summary: Grif and Simmons aren't married. No one else seems to understand that though





	Secondhand Heart

Grif knew that everyone talked about him and Simmons. It was hard to miss people gossipping about their "relationship", especially since none of them, Tucker and Donut especially, were exactly subtle about it.

But the first person to actually  _ say _ anything about it to Grif’s face was Caboose.

Grif wasn’t paying attention because he had other things on his mind, like how to sneak into the food stores _ just _ to check on them, when Caboose asked him the question. Despite what everyone else thought, he wasn’t raised in a barn so Grif went, “Pardon, what?” instead of ignoring Caboose.

Caboose grinned, bouncing on his heels. “I’m looking for your husband!”

Grif blinked. “My what now?” He was pretty sure he wasn’t even dating anyone, never mind married.

“Your Simmons. Kimball needs him.”

“Simmons isn’t my—we’re not married, dipshit,” Grif snapped, but pointed Caboose in the right direction none the less. If Kimball needed Simmons then it was probably important.

“You’re really not married? Are you sure?” Grif turned and, of-fucking-course there was Palomo, audibly grinning under his helmet.

“I’m sure,” he ground out, before turning on his heel. “Don’t you have laps to run in my stead?” If Washington really thought that making everyone else do his laps was going to make Grif show up for training, he was dreaming.

“You can’t stay away forever, Captain Grif,” Palomo said darkly, but Grif only waved one of his hands in the air.

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, kid.”

 

* * *

 

“Kai and Tucker want you.”

The lights snapped on and Simmons slammed the bedroom door as Grif began to slowly pull himself out of his bed-nest. It was barely 11:30 in the morning—too damn early to be up and moving in his opinion, even if everyone else had been awake and moving around since eight. Or six-thirty if you were Simmons and Carolina. 

With a sigh, Grif pulled a shirt on, checked for any food stains on his pyjama bottoms, and headed out into the main room. He would normally just ignore Simmons and crawl back into bed, except since it was  _ both _ Tucker and Kai, that meant they’d either found something awesome or done something hilariously stupid.

He stepped into the kitchen to Kai beaming and Tucker with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Okay, what did you two chucklefucks do this time,” Grif asked, reaching out and stealing Kai’s protein coffee milkshake thing, taking a drag. “What’s in this this? Dirt?” He paused. “…you didn’t drag me out here just to see if I’d drink this, did you?”

“Nope, we’re going to get Caboose to lift the Warthog with us in it since Wash is passed the fuck out still but holy SHIT Dex—” she took back her drink, taking a slug of it while he gagged. “Tucker told Simmons to find his hubby and here you are. Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

“You’re delusional, we aren’t married.” Grif paused, then yelled over his shoulder. “HEY SIMMONS.”

“WHAT?” came the reply.

“KAI AND TUCKER THINK WE GOT HITCHED.”

“THEY’RE IMAGINING THINGS.”

“WHY DID YOU GO GET GRIF WHEN I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR HUSBAND THEN?” Tucker yelled, butting in.

“WHY ARE WE YELLING?” Caboose shouted from outside.

“STOP FUCKING SCREAMING! WASH IS TRYING TO SLEEP, ASSHOLES!” Carolina screeched and everyone’s mouths snapped shut.

“We aren’t married,” Grif hissed, snatching Kai’s drink back from her and downing the rest of it despite her objections. “Okay, lets do this before Wash wakes up. Who’s filming?”

 

* * *

 

“Grif! Where is your S.O,” Sarge screamed more than said into Grif’s ear, and he gave the older man an unimpressed look.

“Uh…I’m pretty sure that Kimball is busy on Chorus, Wash and Carolina are doing Freelancer things, and you’re right here, I guess.”

“Not superior officer, dirtbag. Significant other! Otherwise known as Spouse, Husband, or Simmons.” Sarge wasn’t screaming anymore, but Grif’s head hurt like he was.

“Dude, we are  _ not  _ married. When the fuck did you guys even get the idea that we’re married?” he said. “We’re, like, barely even dating. And I think he’s with Carolina and Wash doing Freelancer things. Something about knife training I guess?”

“Soldier—” Sarge stopped, frowned, then put a hand on Grif’s shoulder. Grif tried his best to not crawl out of his skin at the open display of civility. “—son, Simmons gave you his heart. He also gave you his lungs, kidneys, several feet of intestines, an eye, a third of your left arm, and a patchwork quilt of skin. At this point, doing the ceremony, cake, and paperwork would be redundant.”

“Hey, cake is never redundant,” Grif said, slipping out and away from Sarge’s reach. “Anyways, thanks for the advice, I guess? I’ll be sure to put this memory in the ‘repress’ pile for later.”

 

* * *

 

Grif rolled over. It was a quarter past four in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. Or, well, he could but he didn’t want to. He was still getting used to having people around again, and if he kept waking up to make sure that Simmons and Sarge and Caboose and Donut and the rest of everyone was still there, well it was nobody’s business but his own.

“Hey. Simmons, hey.”

The lump on the bed beside him shifted, and Grif could tell that he was being glared at.

“I literally just got into bed. What do you want, Grif.”

“Do you want to get married?”

There was a beat, then another, then Simmons sat up and pushed Grif off the bed.

“ _ What?!”  _ Simmons hissed before flicking the bedside table light on. “I—what—why—what kind of question is  _ that _ ?”

Grif tried to keep the look of disappointment off his face from his spot on the floor. “So that’s a no then?”

“I didn’t say that!” Half of Simmons’ face went red as he crossed his arms, sitting in the middle of the bed and looking down at Grif.

Grif blinked. “So, yes then?”

“I didn’t say that either!” Now he was waving his hands, looking, somehow, even more flustered.

Grif sighed. “Okay, then what’s your answer?” If it wasn’t a no, and it wasn’t a yes, then what was it? A maybe? What would he even  _ do _ with a maybe answer?

“What brought this on?” Simmons answered with a question of his own, before reaching down and heaving Grif to his feet. 

“Dunno. Was just thinking about stuff.” Grif climbed up beside Simmons, sitting beside him and laying his head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” Simmons pushed Grif’s head up and stuck a pillow between them. “You’re going to kill your neck if you do that.”

“Mhm. Did a lot of thinking when you guys were gone.” He shrugged, adjusting the pillow before melting back against Simmons. “Don’t want to--” 

This early in the morning, words seemed to slip out before he could stop them, but even so he wasn’t about to say that he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Luckily, Simmons understood.

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Donut and Kai both screamed bloody murder at him the next morning for his 1) timing and 2) unromantic approach, and he had to deal with a smug Bitters winning the betting pool, but Grif just had to look at Simmons, screeching at Sarge about literal shotgun weddings, to find that he didn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> So I went on the RVB Wiki and took note that apparently? Simmons only remaining internal organ is his spleen? So then I did this bc there's nothing more romantic than giving your crush your literal heart
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


End file.
